


30

by JDSampson



Series: Counting Kisses [6]
Category: Project Blue Book (TV)
Genre: Drunkenness, Early Relationship, Emotional Baggage, Light Angst, M/M, Sad and Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 14:04:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19993450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JDSampson/pseuds/JDSampson
Summary: After a case takes a nasty turn, Quinn drowns his sorrows in drink but Allen is there to pick up the pieces.





	30

30 

“Stupid teenagers. I should have slapped them both in irons and delivered them to the nearest military base. That would have scared the shit out of them.”

Allen half smiled. “I think they were scared enough having to face you. Believe me, they’ll never do anything like this again.”

Quinn threw back the last of whatever was in his glass and signaled the waitress for another, but Allen waved her off. 

“You’ve had enough.”

“I haven’t had nearly enough. You know how I know that? Because I can still see that little boy in my head. Covered in dirt and blood, his mother screaming. . . “ He lifted the glass to his lips again and tipped it bottoms up before realizing that it was empty. “If that little boy had died, that would have been on me. That would have been my fault.”

Allen looked around to see if Quinn’s tone had attracted attention, but the small-town bar patrons were all too busy drowning in their own drinks. He scooted his chair closer and laid his hand over Quinn’s hand which was fisted on the table. 

That was as far as he could go in public without attracting a different kind of attention. God damn, he wished it wasn’t so, but this single touch and words were all he could offer as comfort until they got back to the hotel. 

“Listen to me. First of all, if we had done anything wrong, missed anything we shouldn’t have missed, that little boy’s death would have been on both of us. Not just you. Partners, remember? But we didn’t do anything wrong. We’d barely begun our investigation. We had no reason to think this was a hoax.”

“We should have—” 

Allen stopped him with a finger. “I’m not done. Not only, would that boy’s death NOT have been your fault. You are the reason that child is still alive. If you hadn’t noticed the change in the pit, we wouldn’t have investigated, wouldn’t have found the toy, wouldn’t have even suspected that he was trapped under there. You saved that child’s life.”

But Quinn wasn’t feeling it. From the way he was sitting, all slumped and loose in the chair, he wasn’t feeling much of anything other than the buzz. 

Allen leaned in closer to Quinn. “Let’s get out of here, go back to the hotel where we can ‘speak’ privately.”

Quinn also leaned in and for a scary second, Allen thought the Captain was going to kiss him right there and then. Instead, Quinn rolled his eyes in that ‘you’re talking nonsense to me’ way that both amused and infuriated Allen.

“One more for the road.” Quinn waved for the waitress but when she appeared Allen asked for the check. 

She pulled her pad from her apron pocket, did a quick total with a pencil then set it on the table. “You’re the alien fellas, right? Came to investigate the Mitchell boys’ claims.”

“That’s right,” Allen confirmed. He opened his wallet and plucked out a few bills to cover the tab with a generous tip. “Keep the change.”

“Thanks!” 

Quinn snatched the wallet from Allen’s hands. “Want to double it?”

“Doing what?” She eyed them suspiciously, clearing suspecting that there was a lascivious proposition at the end of this road. 

“Giving me a bottle of whiskey to go.” Quinn lightened Allen’s wallet by a few more bills. 

“No more,” Allen protested, making a grab for the wallet. 

“I’m not supposed to,” said the waitress. 

“There, you see,” Allen made another grab for the wallet but was still unsuccessful in the recovery. “You’re going to get the girl in trouble.”

Quinn smiled at the young woman and Allen knew all was lost. 

“Heck, the whole town is really grateful to you for putting those awful Mitchell boys in their place and gosh, you saved Danny Green, that poor, poor, baby. His mama’s been singing your praises since it happened. A bottle of whiskey is the least we can do to repay you.”

“We get paid, by the Air Force,” said Allen but the waitress was already on her way back to the bar. 

Quinn turned his smirky smile on his partner. “At least something good came out of this miserable trip.” 

“My wallet, please?” 

Quinn handed it over and the look in his eye was both mesmerizing and mischievous. It made Allen weak in the knees, but he wasn’t falling for it. He wasn’t backing down on this. 

“Come on. We’re going.”

Quinn sighed dramatically but he stood as Allen stood. Then he wavered slightly before finding his footing. “Room tipped a little.”

“You know that’s physically impossible.” Allen got behind Quinn and gave him a little push toward the door. The waitress met them there with a bottle of whiskey. Quinn grabbed the bottle by the neck and gave the girl a flirtatious thank you.

It was a cool night, wet with fog in the air. It felt good on Allen’s face but wasn’t so good for his glasses. As they approached the car, he pulled them off and wiped them dry with a handkerchief. 

“Want me to drive?” Quinn joked. 

“No thanks, I’d like to live to see the morning.” Allen opened the passenger door and shoved Quinn into the car. By the time he was settled in the driver’s seat, Quinn was already sipping from the bottle. 

“I wish you wouldn’t drink so much.”

“I wish it was 2025.” 

That was a bizarre nonquitter, but given the Captain’s state, Allen didn’t bother to follow up. 

“You know, Doc, when I first accepted the position, I thought it was joke. I thought I’d spend my time calming the public, smiling for the cameras, reminding people that aliens don’t exist.” Quinn put the whiskey bottle between his legs to hold it while he lit up a cigarette. 

“Thought it was a joke. Then that woman took a header out that hospital window. Fuller set himself on fire. Wells died of god knows what. And Fairchild. . . .” Cigarette in his right hand, whiskey in his left. He took another long drink and followed it with a drag. “People weren’t supposed to get hurt. They certainly weren’t supposed to die. Bad enough when it’s soldiers but the kids. . . those kids with their eyes burned and Danny Green buried alive. This is not a joke.”

“No, it’s not.” Allen gave Quinn’s leg a squeeze then put his hands back on the wheel. “But you can handle it. You’ve seen worse.”

“Yes, I have.” Another sip, then he slid down further in the seat, so his butt was almost off the edge. 

Allen sighed his displeasure. “Are you going to polish off that whole bottle?”

“Maybe.” Quinn lifted the brown bottle to his eyes and peered through it, through the windshield and into the darkness beyond. “Doc. Remember that Corporal who helped us sneak into Von Braun’s lab? No one’s seen him since we left the base that night.”

“What?”

“I asked around. Nothing. Von Braun must have figured out that he was the one who helped us and now he’s dead, because of us.”

The very idea gave Allen a sick feeling in his stomach, but he was determined not to let it take over. One of them had to remain strong this night. “You don’t know that. He could have been transferred or discharged.” 

“And I know you don’t believe that.” Quinn had the bottle to his lips when the car made a hard right into the motel parking lot. Whiskey spilled down the front of his shirt and he moaned as a wave of dizziness rolled through his body. 

“Did you do that on purpose?”

Allen parked in front of their room. “No, but I’m going to do this on purpose.” He grabbed the bottle out of Quinn’s hand, got out of the car, then poured the rest of the alcohol into the grass. It was nearly empty. Shit.

“Hey!” Quinn protested weakly as he struggled to get out of the car. 

“I paid for it. I can do what I want with it. You’ve had enough.” 

Quinn stumbled forward four steps then rolled back two. “Did you just move the motel?”

“Yes. I used my super alien powers to make the building slide back two feet.”

“I thought so.” 

Patience waning, Allen plucked the lit cigarette from Quinn’s hand, toed it out on the pavement then slipped his arm under the Captain’s shoulders for support. 

“I can walk by myself.” Quinn insisted but he made no move to get out of Allen’s grip. “I can also tango. Can you?” He turned his head to the left and shouted ‘hey’ in Allen’s ear. 

That made Allen turn his head to the right, so their noses were inches apart. 

“You’re so cute when you’re pissed at me.” Quinn pursed his lips and kissed the air. 

Allen automatically looked around to see if anyone was watching. Not that it mattered. Anyone witnessing this display would write it off as the crazy things people do when they’re wasted. “You are not so cute when you’re drunk.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I am an adorable drunk.” 

Thankfully, their room was on the first floor, so the only obstacle was the ten feet between the car and the door. Allen had to let go in order to unlock the door and then Quinn preceded him into the dark room, instantly bumping into the nearest bed. 

“Ow.”

Allen snapped the overhead light on, then closed and locked the door behind them. He shrugged out of his suit jacket, loosened his tie, then sat down on the bed to take off his shoes. 

That was when the events of the day hit him like a heavy canvas tent collapsing over his head. He hated to buy in to Quinn’s little declaration in the car, but the tide had definitely shifted. Chasing the moon, weather balloons and bolt lightening was now the exception rather than the norm. More and more people were seeing things, experiencing things even a man with a PHD in Astrophysics couldn’t explain. 

Then there was the pressure from the military to keep the truth a secret – and speaking of keeping secrets . . . 

Allen watched mutely as Quinn struggled down to just his under clothes. 

All of it combined was exhausting. 

Slowly, Allen toed off his own shoes and was working on his cuff buttons when Quinn wandered over and sat down on his lap. 

Yep, straddling Allen’s legs facing him, his knees on the bed, chest to chest, arms around the professor’s neck.

Allen had to look up slightly to meet Quinn’s gaze. “Hello.”

“Is this seat taken?” He leaned down and set a sloppy kiss on Allen’s lips. 

28

Whiskey and cigarettes. 

29

“They’re going to hurt us,” Quinn said, another random thought plucked out of the depths of his liquored-up brain. “You. They’re going to hurt you because you can’t help yourself. You play that, ‘I’m a civilian, I don’t have to follow orders’ card way too often. Please don’t do that anymore. Please play their game so they don’t have a reason to make you disappear.”

“I’ll be careful. I promise.”

Quinn fell forward. His lips brushed over Allen’s cheek, then his temple and forehead. Like kisses, but not really. Allen decided they didn’t count. From there he only got more frantic, his growing five o’clock shadow scraping against Allen’s cheek, sucking kisses to his neck that were likely to leave a mark, hands scrambling to get under and around. 

It was like he was trying to occupy the same space, climb inside Allen’s skin.

“Slow down.”

“Why?”

“Because I asked you to.” Allen pushed back on Quinn’s shoulders. “Let me get up so I can change.”

“No need, I like you just the way you are.”

“Very funny. Off.”

Quinn rolled his eyes but complied. He half rolled, half climbed over Allen, scrambling on to the bed without his feet touching the floor. 

“I’ll just be a couple of minutes.” Allen went into the bathroom and closed the door as Quinn was shouting, ‘I miss you already’. Good lord.

He washed up and changed into pajamas bottoms only. Their one previous experience told him not to bother with the shirt as it was only going to come off anyway. 

Still, it felt a little strange to climb into bed half-naked. He didn’t even do that at home with his wife. But ever since he and Quinn had started this. . . experiment. . . he’d tried a few new things, not the least of which was make out sessions with another man. 

His own brain hadn’t fully accepted the concept, but his body was open to it and then some. Being with Quinn was exciting and satisfying and just a little dangerous. Kind of like working for Project Blue Book. 

Allen left the bathroom, not quite sure what to expect. They were both still new at this and when you added in the Captain’s inebriated state, it was more of a wild card than usual.

He climbed under the covers of the double bed (Quinn was on top of the blanket on his side) and reached to turn off the bedside lamp.

“Not yet,” Quinn said, grabbing his arm. “I want to look at you.”

A slight flush warmed Allen’s cheeks. “You want to look at me? You already know what I look like.”

Quinn was on his side, head propped up on his arm. He’d calmed and now his movements were soft and slow. He peeled back the blanket Allen had covered himself with and drew lazy circles through the hair on the professor’s chest. 

“Why 2025?”

Quinn didn’t understand. 

“In the car, you said you wished it was 2025.”

“Oh. I figured that, by then, it would be okay for us to be together in public. Maybe not.” He dropped his arm so his head lay flat against the pillow just inches away from Allen’s. “You’re beautiful, did you know that?”

Allen laughed and the blush in his cheeks deepened. “I’m not beautiful. Women are beautiful.”

“Men can be beautiful, too.” He slid closer and laid his head on Allen’s chest. “What am I?” He was fading. 

“You are dashing and stalwart and forthright.” A pause because it felt weird to say it. “And you’re very, very handsome. I could lose myself in you.”

Quinn shifted again and set a line of kisses down the center of Allen’s chest. “Someday I want to do more than just kiss you.”

Oh god. 

Quinn sat up suddenly, looked him in the eye and saw what he felt - pure panic.

“Don’t worry, doc. It won’t be today, just someday, when you’re ready.” He laid back down, but this time he rolled onto his stomach, arms under the pillow. 

When you’re ready.

Would he ever be ready to go further? Right now, he didn’t think so. As much as enjoyed the feel of Michael Quinn pressed against him, kissing him, touching him – he wasn’t sure he could do any more. That made him a little sad. He didn’t want to disappoint Michael but this was so far from anything he’d ever known. . . . 

Quinn began to snore. 

Allen laid in bed staring up at the ceiling, rethinking the structure of the count. It had been easy enough at the start, but now he realized that he’d gone into it without the proper parameters. When you were collecting data, it was important to define the data sets in a way that gave them boundaries. That made them absolutely clear. 

He realized now that the ‘kisses’ data set involved too many variables. What constitutes a ‘kiss’? For his purposes, he decided that going forward only the clear, distinct meeting of his lips and Michael’s lips would count without regard for which one of them initiated the action. 

Kisses to the throat, cheek, chest or other body parts would be exempt. Same for brushes by and sloppy near misses like the ones he’d experienced earlier in the evening. 

With the new parameters in place, he had to decide on how to handle the previous data. He decided that adding 15 to the current count would sufficiently cover Michael’s drunken advances. Bringing the total up to 44. 

Now there was only one thing he needed to do before his mind would rest. He rolled to his side and took in Quinn’s peaceful, sleeping visage. The lines of anguish were gone from his face and there was the slightest lift of a smile on his lips. Allen hoped that was the result of a sweet dream. Quinn deserved it. 

“I don’t know how this happened or how long its going to last,” he whispered, “but you, Michael Quinn, have ruined me in the most painful, joyful, inexplicable way.” 

Allen leaned over and placed one very clear, very exact kiss on Quinn’s lips. 

45.

Now, he too could go to sleep. 

The End


End file.
